


Infinite Possibility

by charlottesometimes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers bickering, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Darcy Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Drinking, Friendship, Frigga is still dead :(, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I just came up with that tag and I feel like it should be a thing, Infinity Gems, Loki Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Loki Lies, Loki Needs a Hug, Lol okay no he isn't but he's trying, Male-Female Friendship, Manipulative Loki, Mind Control, Mjolnir feels, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Odin is a bag of actual dicks, Plotty, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Shield's moral issues, Thor Angst, Thor Feels, Thor Is Not Stupid, Thor Is a Good Bro, Thor Needs a Hug, Torture, Tricksters gotta trick, Warning: Loki, Whump, absolutely and unabashedly irresponsible use of elements from comics I have researched but not read, character development for everyone!, depressed Thor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottesometimes/pseuds/charlottesometimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-“The Dark World,” Loki searches for the Soul Gem in order to complete the Infinity Gauntlet and gain omnipotence. He's got to find it before Thanos catches up with him--nothing else can protect Loki from the power of the Mad Titan.</p><p>After all, Thanos will probably be pretty angry. Loki did steal the other five gems out from under the Titan’s nose. Why let Thanos become omnipotent, when it could be Loki instead?</p><p>To find the Soul Gem and complete his many and various schemes, Loki will have to lie, cheat and manipulate everyone around him. But then, that’s half the fun … </p><p>Or it used to be. After all that Loki’s been through, the fun is wearing a bit thin. So when his schemes leave Loki staying at Thor and Jane’s little house on Midgard, and he starts to feel genuinely okay for the first time in more than a century, it might not be so easy to keep hurting those who seem to ... care for him. </p><p>But can anything short of omnipotence ever really be enough, now that Loki’s so close to getting it?</p><p>Ha. Probably not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is shaping up to be just over 180,000 words total, and I'm about 120,000 words into it. I'll post weekly, on Tuesday nights, because that's when I have a chunk of time to sit and format and stuff. 
> 
> But my hope is that I will get some reviews/constructive criticism as I go along, because I am extremely open to revising the story as I go based upon some good thoughts from readers. If you read, please leave some thoughts, even if (especially if) they're not nice, and even if you feel like they're not coherent, lol.
> 
> In particular, I'd like to know when and if I give you FEELS. Because that is the goal, really. To impart feels. So if you let me know when and if my fic gives you feels, it will be a good deed for the day. Good karma for you. Psychic hugs from me. 
> 
> Oh, and btw. I'll put two things in these notes at the beginning of every chapter: Specific warnings, and a song I think goes well with the chapter. 
> 
> This chapter's song is "Hope is a Thing With Feathers," performed by Trailer Bride. It's this great mournful interpretation of the Emily Dickinson's poem of the same name. 
> 
> Love,  
> Charlottesometimes

“Thanos the Eternal,” Loki said with a coolness he did not feel as he stepped through the fabric of reality and into the massive throne room of the Titan's star base. “A pleasant evening.”

“Is it evening on Asgard?” Thanos replied, his back to Loki. He was looking out the window near his throne at a winking starscape.

Loki looked away. He did not like space. He did not like its emptiness. It put him in mind of … falling. And he did not like to be put in mind of falling. He could already feel his chest constricting.

“Yes,” he said shortly, fisting the edge of his tunic just to give his hands something solid to feel. “And I have something for you.”

“I know,” Thanos said. He joined his hands behind his back and continued to gaze, and Loki did not press the Titan to turn around. He just focused his eyes on the flagstone floor.

The _Serenity II_ was, as always, freezing, and Loki began to shiver as he waited for Thanos to conclude his gazing; the base had been built by and for creatures with much fewer bodily weaknesses than Loki had.

Only when Loki's already-exhausted limbs began to tire and stiffen, and Loki's pride began to revolt—that Thaos should _continue_ to have this effect on him, this cowing—did Loki speak again.

“If you could take a moment--”

“Oh, Loki!” Thanos said, turning. “I forgot you were there.”

And he grinned. Loki's stomach went cold.

“Ah, yes, here I am,” Loki said. He swallowed. The bulky Titan standing before the window reminded Loki of Heimdall the Guardian, if Heimdall were about six times his size and fixated on destroying the actual universe.

 Not that any of that, any of Thanos' strengths or plans, mattered to Loki any more.

He was about to get his five minutes with the Gem of Time. Right now. Within minutes … within minutes, the past would be obliterated. Falling would be obliterated. The look on Byyrenll's face, obliterated. Frigga's travesty of a death, obliterated. Defeat after defeat, obliterated.

Maybe “obliterated” wasn't the best choice of word.

… Undone. That was better. Remedied.

“What can I do for you, little prince?”

Little Prince. Loki's mind flashed him images of stealing the Gems, blasting Thanos with the Gem of Power, deleting Thanos with the Gem of Reality, changing himself to a stronger creature, crushing Thanos beneath his foot--

No, no, stop, stop the thoughts, he will see--

But Thanos was already laughing.

“You do not believe any of that, little prince, do you? That you could really do any of that to me?”

Loki realized he wasn't breathing, and inhaled. After a few breaths, he trusted himself to speak.

“I have the Gem of Power for you,” he said.

“I know,” Thanos rumbled. He finally—finally--moved away from the windowed wall and toward his throne. Loki imagined he could feel the ground shake a bit with each of the Titan's steps, and had to grip his tunic once again to keep his hands from shaking. The footsteps reminded him too much of the steady footfalls of the guards outside Odin's chambers, marching up and down, every night, keeping Loki _safe_ inside in the cage of his illusion, the illusion that he was in fact Odin, King of Asgard.

Making Loki wonder each time they passed if, this time, those feet marched not to patrol past his door, but to take him away to the dungeon, because someone had seen through his illusion.

“Mmm, that does sound unpleasant,” Thanos said, bringing Loki back to himself. He had gripped the tunic into such tight fists that his fingernails were biting into his palms through the fabric. He relaxed his grip.

“Please do not do that,” Loki answered. He could not stand it, could not _stand_ it, when Thanos read his mind like that, like it was an open book--which, of course, it was to Thanos.

“Yes, I forgot,” Thanos said, seating himself upon the raised throne. “You hate that.”

“I do.”

“Put it here,” Thanos said. He held out his hand, fingers like blocks of stone, palm up. “Now. And you will have your five minutes.”

Loki reached into reality—ever since he and Thanos had begun to work together, the Gem of Reality had responded only to Loki (much to Thanos' displeasure), and one of the results was that it was even easier than it had always been for Loki to create and maintain pocket dimensions for storage purposes—and extracted the Gem of Power.

It glowed red like animal eyes in the dark as Loki crossed the few feet toward Thanos' hand. This one more than any other gem gave Loki a bad feeling, but whether that had to do with the energy of the gem itself or with the actual war he had been forced to launch in his guise as Odin to obtain it he could not say.

The Titan's hand was cold as rock when Loki set the stone there and then immediately retreated to a safe distance from the throne once more.

Thanos' fist closed around the gem, and he closed his eyes.

After a moment he exhaled, and a new grin spread across his face. “My,” he said. “This is a good one. My favorite yet.” He laughed. “This one will make trouble all on its own.”

Enough time passed with the Titan in that pose for Loki to wonder whether he wouldn't be left standing here in the cold room for another long stretch, but then Thanos opened his eyes.

“Good work,” he said. Loki, in spite of himself, felt his shoulders relax measurably and a treacherous warmth start in his chest.

Thanos would read in Loki's mind that he liked the compliment, but Loki hid it anyway. “Fine, Thanos,” he said. “Give me the Gem of Time.”

Thanos snapped the red gem into the Infinity Gauntlet on his left hand—the false Gauntlet the dwarves had created was in Asgard, in the weapon's vault, keeping up appearances.

Then the Titan drew the Gauntlet away from his face and turned it this way and that, as if to admire it. Just one of the six settings was empty of its intended gem; the Soul Gem was still in the possession of someone Thanos referred to only as “The Channeler.”

After a moment Thanos pried the orange one from where it was mounted on one knuckle. “You know, this one is tricky,” he said. Then he looked up at Loki and went on: “Catch!”

The gem arced from Thanos' fist and began to fall toward the flagstone floor several feet from Loki.

With a flick of his wrist Loki swallowed the gem into a reality pocket and spit it back out to fall into his open palm.

Thanos laughed. “Excellent,” he said. “You know, if this really is goodbye, I want you to know: I do like you, little prince. I liked at first only your rage, but ever since I brought you back to life I have liked the whole of you very much.”

Loki pressed his mouth shut to keep his retorts in, and gave his mind a moment to settle. “Thank you, Thanos,” he managed finally. Thanos would have heard everything Loki thought about him. But that was part of Thanos' damned game: Loki must behave as Thanos would want him to behave, even though they both knew what was going on in Loki's head.

But it didn't matter now. There was an orange Gem of Time on Loki's palm. He had never held it before. Unlike the Gem of Reality, which Thanos had allowed Loki to access from the beginning of their re-acquaintance simply because Loki could wield it well and Thanos could not, Thanos had kept Loki from the Gem of Time.

Because all Loki wanted, the only thing he longed for in all the universe, was a second chance. This time, he would not fail. “I certainly hope that it is goodbye,” Loki replied. And he closed his eyes.

The gem in his hand opened up a landscape of magic in his mind unlike any he had seen before, just as each of the other gems he had touched had done. It wasn't quite as clear to Loki as when he held the Reality Gem, but he could make out patterns.

“Take me back,” he told the gem, pushing as much magic as the gem would allow into his command. “Take me back to the moment in Asgard when I was a boy and an innocent prince, just before I entered the secret path to Jotunheim to meet with Laufey for the first time.”

“Take me back.”

Loki waited.

Nothing happened. It was like stepping down a staircase in the dark and finding a step was missing.

The gem … Oh, god. The gem …

It could tell him the past, or a future. It could make him young today, or old. It could alter certain past events.

It could not take him back. That …

The gem whispered to him: That would take the full Gauntlet. You ask too much.

Loki clutched the gem more tightly. It would take the full Gauntlet. Just like resurrection. Just like fooling the magic binding Asgard's Old Ways to accept Loki as King and pass the Kingforce on to him though he was both unworthy and in his heart unwilling, the two great prohibitions for a successor.

Just like rewriting one's own personality.

Just like every damned thing he had hoped the Gems could do for him.

What in the Nine were they good for?

Loki jerked his eyes open, his muscles tensed to fight—but there was no one and nothing to fight. Just Thanos sprawled on his throne, smiling placidly at Loki.

Smiling like he was unsurprised.

“You knew,” Loki spat. “You knew it couldn't.”

Thanos nodded. “I did know, little prince,” he said delightedly. “You cannot change the past like that. You cannot get your second chance.”

Clutching the Gem so hard had reopened the tiny puncture wounds in Loki's palm, and there was slick blood on the smooth stone in his fist. He forced himself to open his hand, and looked down at the bloody gem.

It would take the Gauntlet. The full Gauntlet to … rewrite his history.

A plan formed all at once in a corner of Loki's mind, and before he even dared to put the thoughts into words he was acting.

A flick of the wrist and the pocket emerged from reality nearby, stronger and more durable than any Loki had created before, another flick and--

Thanos had less than a half-second to register Loki's thoughts, and realization showed as horror on his face just before he disappeared with a roar that the pocket dimension swallowed up.

The Gauntlet fell to the floor with a clink as the dimension closed.

Loki gasped, and felt his knees buckle beneath him.

Had he just ... Had he just imprisoned a Titan?

Panting and shaking on his knees, Loki listened for the sound of guard's footsteps coming to apprehend their leader's sudden and unexpected captor. But there was no sound in the high-ceilinged chamber but the echoes of his own ragged breaths. Perhaps Thanos had asked to be left alone with Loki.

Loki's sudden relief at having avoided whatever Thanos had planned for him after the Time Gem failed did a lot to calm the shaking in his limbs, which were exhausted by the huge expenditure of magic.

He could _feel_ Thanos straining and railing against the walls of his new prison, and Loki knew it would only be a matter of time before he tore free.

But for now, Loki had five of the Infinity Gems, and needed only one more to have what he wanted.

Omnipotence. God-like power.

The power to change the past, or to make a mended future.

Yes. Yes, he would make a mended future. He would … rule. He would fix everything, make everything okay.

What did “omnipotence” mean, if not the power to make things exactly as he wished them, no matter how complex? Could one with omnipotence not both get everything they wanted, and give everyone else what they wanted, too?

Loki crawled toward the Gauntlet and laced it onto his left wrist before clicking the bloodied Time Gem back into its setting. He would need to wait a little while for his strength to return, before using the Space Gem to portal home to Asgard; it took magic to use the Gems, at least for Loki, though he had grown more adept with most of them, over the last six months.

He listened again for signs of retaliation on the ship, and once again heard only the silence of the vast throne room.

He put a small invisibility glamour on himself, and waited for his magic to recharge. He had work to do. Work to do, and a plan forming in the back of his mind.

For the first time since he had died and been resurrected, Loki was in control.

He smiled.

***************

“Hey!”

The rocky ground of Svartalfheim beneath Thor and Loki began to shake and buck as if with an earthquake, or else—

Or else Thor was lying on his and Jane's bed, and Darcy had just launched herself onto the end of it, waking him up.

She brandished a clear plastic bag of green and leafy vegetable life at him. “What's this?” she asked.

Jane seemed to have come into the sunlit bedroom behind Darcy, but hung back from the bed to lean against the door frame and squint in amused disapproval at her lab assistant and friend.

Thor sighed, and hauled himself to a sitting position, the huge leather-bound “Portals, Gateways, and Other Magical Liminalities” sliding down to his lap from where it lay open on his chest. He rubbed sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Like almost noon,” Darcy said. She shoved the bag under his nose. “Tell me what this is.”

“You don't have to guess,” Jane said. Darcy was always trying to teach Thor the names of Midgardian things, and recently she was on to vegetables. “Darcy is just more determined than usual today to be annoying. But you _could_ get up.”

“What Jane means is you've worn the same sweatpants for three days again, and you hadn't done that in months,” Darcy filled in bluntly. “So I grabbed this here kale and—shit.”

Thor grinned. “Kale?” he asked. “Is it kale?”

This was how Jane and Darcy were now dealing with helping Thor who, for the six months since Malekith took both his brother and mother, had not exactly been himself—they were keeping him “busy,” Jane said. Well that, and listening with perhaps genuine interest when he went on and on about Frigga and, more often, his enigmatic brother.

He was mostly fine, now. It had been six months. He'd begun working with the Avengers, when he wasn't on Asgard. He'd been avoiding Odin, and avoiding any semblance of princely duties, and that meant … more time and space to clear his head.

He was mostly fine, most of the time.

“Zero points to House Odinson,” Darcy was grumbling. “I'm getting another one.” She got up and left the room with her kale.

Jane took Darcy's place at the end of the tangled bed, and picked up one of the stuffed animals she still kept there in spite of her new, semi-permanent bedfellow. It was a—“gecko?” Thor thought it was a “gecko.” She hugged the creature to her chest. “She's right, you know,” Jane said. “About the sweatpants.”

“I know,” Thor replied. He drummed his fingers on the old book in his lap, then put it to the side of the bed where there was a stack of other such Asgardian tomes. He had begun reading the books Loki had liked best, in life, based upon the recommendations of the old Asgardian palace librarian Tindal.

Tindal had been, Thor had discovered, one of Loki's closest friends. In the last six months, Thor had become friends with him likewise.

“I'll get up,” Thor said.

“I thought today we could go to the, uh, flea market,” Jane said as Thor began hunting around the clothes-strewn floor for a pair of jeans. “It's like a street market? With a bunch of people selling useless nonsense and food that is delicious and bad for you. Darcy wants to look at some jewelry stand, and I always like to talk to the salespeople, some of them are old and just adorable, and you, you might like candied walnuts, I was thinking you'd like candied walnuts. But if you don't like candied walnuts, there's also usually places that sell vintage guns, and, you know, other manly historical items like that, not that you would understand the history behind them without asking, I mean, obviously … ”

“You're babbling, a little bit!” came Darcy's voice, muffled, perhaps because her head was inside the refrigerator hunting for a new vegetable for Thor to identify.

“... I am,” Jane said to Thor. “Sorry.”

Thor smiled as he pulled on a T-shirt. “You know I like it,” he said. Jane smiled back.

Then Darcy appeared once more in the doorway, this time holding up a bag with something yellow and vaguely oblong. “Alright, tell me what this is, and I might not force you to identify anything at the flea market. They sell vegetables there, too, you know.”

Thor stared at the strange, fleshy piece of produce. He searched his memory for some inkling that he had ever seen the thing before, and came up empty. “This one is unknown to me, I am afraid,” he said.

Darcy put the hand that wasn't holding the vegetable aloft on her hip. “No, it isn’t,” she said. “I told you what it was when we were in the store.”

Thor stared.

“I made up a mnemonic,” Darcy prompted.

Thor shrugged, at a loss.

“I sang a song,” Darcy tried once more. She thrust the plant toward his face, as if proximity would jog his memory.

“Perhaps I was not listening,” Thor suggested reasonably. “Or perhaps I can only remember the names of so many new Midgardian things per day.”

Darcy shook her head at him, and Thor responded with his most charming smile.

It wasn’t that Thor didn’t understand the necessity of his learning these Midgardian details. There had been the matter of Bananas. It was just that he rather imagined he would learn these things eventually one way or another, and that vegetable quizzes and flash cards with cartoon versions of Midgardian animals were not entirely necessary.

Sometimes he daydreamed about taking Darcy on a trip to Asgard just to turn the tables. But then, of course, there weren’t flash cards in Asgard. And a cartoon bildgesnipe would be something of a travesty.

“So, the flea market?” Jane chirped from her seat on the bed. She was now cuddling both the “gecko” and the “teddy-bear.”

Thor tried to look conciliatory. “I”--

“Nope, no, nope,” Darcy said, shaking her head and leaning against the bedroom door frame. “I know what you're going to say. You've got some new idea about someone who might have memories about Loki to give you, and you've got to run off to Asgard again. Or you need another book he liked. Or something. That's all fine and good, until it sends you back to bed for three days. You're going to the flea market.”

Thor glanced at Jane.

“I think maybe it could be good for you to take a break,” Jane agreed, looking apologetic.

Just then Thor was saved from answering by the bounding entrance of Bananas, the fluffy white cat pet that had come to live in the yellow house a few weeks earlier as a result of some confusion on Thor’s part—when Darcy said to “pick up bananas” while he was out, and they had only the day before that met a cat pet named Bananas in a store that purveyed animals, and Thor didn’t know what else Darcy might mean by “bananas,” what was he supposed to think?

The cat jumped onto Jane's lap, displacing the stuffed creatures with impunity, sat, and began to emit his low thrumming sound.

“What is the sound a cat pet is said to make again?” Thor heard himself asking, going over to scratch the animal on the head in the traditional Midgardian manner.

“Oh, now you want to learn,” Darcy said, throwing up her hands.

“I should lie to you so you get funny looks from other people,” Jane said, rubbing the cat's back.

Thor suppressed a smile. “That would be unkind,” he said.

“It was 'squash,' by the way,” Darcy's voice came from the kitchen, and Thor glanced up to see she was gone again.

“It's called 'purring,'” Jane answered.

Thor smiled again. “Yes, thank you.”

“So, what is it you've got to do today?” Jane asked.

Thor hesitated, and glanced up at the doorway to ensure Darcy was still not within earshot. “I think I've worked out a secret pathway to Muspelheim from that little book Kvasir lent me,” he said quietly, still petting the cat in Jane's lap. “It's probably the easiest to access of any of the secret pathways. Loki figured it out quite young, most likely. Around the time … around the time we both started shield training, maybe. Kvasir said it was just a few decades before that when Loki first began to pester him about magic.”

Jane kept her eyes down, focused on the cat pet. “That's great,” she said. “I'm glad you're getting the hang of … that. Just be careful. I'd imagine most people stay away from them for a reason?” She looked up and smiled nervously.

Thor nodded. “I will probably make Fandral go with me,” he said.

But before Jane could answer, her cell phone chirped, and she answered it. A moment later she was handing it to Thor.

“It’s Steve,” she said simply.

“Greetings, Steve,” Thor said warmly, if still a little uncertain—phones were a strange technology, Thor firmly held—into the box of plastic and glass.

“Thor, hi,” came Steve’s even voice. “Look, I’m sorry to launch into it like this, but—are you sitting down?”

Thor frowned “Yes,” he lied.

“Good. I have to tell you something. It’s something you’re not going to like hearing. But we have a situation, and we need you down here to help us figure it out. Okay?”

Steve’s tone rather reminded Thor of the way Jane talked to him when he was getting too angry at something, and forgot to calm himself down, or when his doubts took him to a particularly dark place. It was peculiar to Midgard, and Thor had come to like tone; from Jane, it meant he was loved and cared for, rather than simply deferred to. “Of course, Steve,” he said.

“Good. Okay. So. There’s a man in Times Square right now, in New York City. He’s holding about five hundred people hostage. He’s got hold of some … powerful intergalactic weapons, or something. He calls them—what was it, Bruce? … Right. 'Infinity gems.' He’s already torn up a city block. He's got a pile of bodies—and zoo animals, he's—I can't even explain what's happening with the zoo animals. And on top of all this, he's also claiming credit for a series of … 'miracles' over the last week. Like, I assume you read about that huge coincidence last week, when the eight coma victims from the Chitauri invasion who were still alive all woke up at once, with no permanent brain trauma? Anyway, look, Thor. Here's the part you're not going to like hearing. Are you ready?”

“... Yes.”

“He looks exactly like your brother. I mean, a dead ringer, Thor. And claims to _be_ your brother, to be … Loki, of Asgard. If you hadn’t told me yourself that Loki was dead, then I would … Well, I would say it’s Loki. And he says he'll only talk to you.”

A shockwave of confusion and uncertainty went off wordlessly in Thor's mind before he had even quite processed Steve's words.

Then a small part of Thor which he had hoped was gone whispered:

I told you he wasn't dead.

Thor didn't know whether that was a function of his lingering inability to accept Loki's death, according to Darcy and Jane a function of his grief, or … a result of the distrust Thor still felt deep down toward his dead brother, in spite of his best efforts to learn understanding and the benefit of the doubt.

Either way, he squashed the thought.

“It cannot be,” Thor said firmly. “I will come and set right this situation. But tell me again, what was the location called? Times Square?”

Steve hesitated before answering straight. “It’s a kind of big-deal human destination,” Steve said. “In terms of putting on a show, it’s something like choosing the palace of Asgard as the stage for your hostage-taking performance.”

The voice in Thor's head began to whisper once more.

The man looks like Loki. And certainly sounds like he acts like Loki … well, like Loki had acted for a time, at the worst of times ...

Thor over the last six months had sort of developed a habit of thinking of his brother as three people: Loki before Thor's botched coronation, Loki during his stint as a King and as a would-be conqueror of Midgard, and Loki after his imprisonment. Two good Lokis. Only one bad—or, not bad. _Doing_ bad, Thor reminded himself.

But whether you called it bad, or “doing bad,” this was that Loki. Even though Loki, and all his incarnations, had lay on the rocks of Alfheim and bled to death as Thor watched. Even though Loki had saved Jane when fighting broke out between Thor, Loki and the elves, that day. Even though Loki had put himself in danger to rescue Thor as Kursed bore down upon him, and paid for it with his life.

Even though Loki had _never_ been as innately wicked as Odin had believed him to be, as Odin had _insisted_ that he was. Thor was almost sure of it.

A sense of dissonance left Thor wishing he could go back to bed.

“I’ll be right there,” he said into the phone, moving toward the hall closet for Mjolnir.

“Thanks, Thor,” Steve said. “I know it must be … confusing, hearing this.”

Thor opened the closet door and pulled the hammer out from among the jeans, T-shirts and racquetball equipment. “Just tell me where to meet you,” he said.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Thor confronts the mysterious stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None? There's a bit of whimsical control of lions and other animals. They are not actually injured, however. 
> 
> Song for this chapter: Love is Blindness, by Jack White.
> 
> Love,  
> Charlottesometimes

Jane drove Thor to the bifrost site at speeds not strictly legal. 

But, as it turned out, her expedience was fruitless—distressingly, Heimdall did not respond. 

Thor would have to think about that later. 

Which was why it took Thor just under three hours, flying with Mjolnir, to find himself circling above Times Square and taking in the scene. 

It was not good; it was, in fact, not so different from any of the super-villain attacks Thor had helped the Avengers face in the last six months. Except, perhaps, it was a bit more elaborate and of a larger scale. 

Two rows of police cars with flashing lights enclosed each of the streets that led into the large, wedge-shaped area known as “Times Square.” Thor could see, as he flew over each street, that EMS vehicles and tac-vested police officers—some with sniper rifles, others with megaphones—were crammed onto the streets between the police car barriers. There were even U.S. Military tanks standing ready to fire in some of the larger side streets. 

Gawkers and news media vans had gathered on the far side of each street, behind the second row of police cars, men and women craning to get a look past the EMS vehicles and into the Square. 

Times Square itself was encased in a shimmering, barely-there sort of light, and even if Thor had never been a magic user, he could recognize an energy shield when he saw one. He wondered briefly how many mortals had tried to pass through the shield and been shocked violently before the police took control of the situation, and whether any of them had died. 

Around the edge of the enclosure, there were long, thin illusions depicting newspapers. Illusory, gigantic copies of "The New York Times," mostly, that reported upon a variety of unexplained "miracles" that had taken place over the last few weeks spun around the square: All the coma victims still alive from Loki's attack on New York City awakening, perfectly mentally healthy; a trunk load of priceless, ancient Midgardian artifacts thought destroyed in the attack on New York City turning up on the doorstep of a New York City museum in perfect condition; nine different spouses of prominent firefighters or police officers who died in the New York City battle winning the lottery all at once. 

Had this man--whoever he was--done those deeds? 

None of that, though, was the worst part. 

The worst part was what was within the energy shield. The Loki look-alike—as Thor decided to call him—had given himself a stage, and an audience. 

All across the wedge-shaped area, on streets and sidewalks, were what must have been five or six hundred people. And, as Thor swooped over the scene, they did not move. They remained frozen in place, as if some magic had made human statues of them. 

Thor found himself searching his memory for whether that had ever been one of Loki's tricks—spells, rather—but he shut the through process down. At this stage, there was no reason to believe that this was Loki's doing.

Puzzlingly, among these human statues were other frozen creatures: Exotic animals, many of which Thor could not identify despite Darcy's training. One was a woolly mammoth. There appeared to be an entire pack of lion cubs dotting the Square. 

And, at the base of a long, thin building that cut Times Square in half, there stood a dome-shaped pile of bodies—human bodies—about the size of Jane's small New Mexico dwelling.

The Loki look-alike was using it as a stage. When Thor squinted, he could make out a lone, green, mobile figure moving over the bodies. It seemed to be creating a fireworks display, which was going off in purple, green, and black within the confines of the energy shield.

Thor was uncomfortably reminded of the time Loki had let a ravenous bilgesnipe into a tavern on Vanaheim in order to demonstrate to Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three that he could defeat it without a single casualty. He had, of course, but with more close-calls that most people would have been able to stomach; Loki was merely smug, afterward.

… Or had he been? Perhaps he—

This was not the time for any of this.

Parked down one of the streets was the Quinjet, and it was here that Thor chose to land. 

Sure enough, the Avengers were assembled there.

Most of them stood in a tight, nervous group near the energy shield, seeming to confer. Thor wondered whether they were speaking ill of Loki, and had to fight the impulse to verify that they were not. 

Steve Rogers stood a few yards away from the other Avengers, himself conferring with Director Fury and two men in suits, one man rumpled and wearing a bullet-proof vest and an earpiece, the other vibrating with an energy and dangling a megaphone from two fingers as he spoke. Steve also held a megaphone, though it looked less like it belonged in his hands. 

The white strobe lights of EMS vehicles and the blue-and-red pulse of police cars made the whole scene flicker in the wan afternoon light. It put Thor in mind of the police procedural Darcy watched sometimes. The climactic scenes would often be bathed in such dramatic, flickering blue and red lights. 

Steve, Fury, the two suited men, and Tony Stark, his armor glinting rhythmically, all turned and approached Thor as he landed with a thump. 

“Thank God you're here,” Steve said just as Tony called: 

“Christ, if I'd known you'd be this long I'd've sent a jet for you.” 

Thor strode toward them as well. “Let me speak to this blasted imposter,” Thor said, nearly at the same time as the others. 

All six men stopped and stared at each other. 

Steve glanced at Tony. Tony gestured expansively for him to go ahead. Steve glanced at the energetic man with a megaphone, who nodded several times. 

“Thor,” Steve began again. “He says he has demands, but no matter what we say he won't tell them to anyone but you. We need you to talk to him.” 

“Demands in exchange for what?” Thor asked, by now having gotten the hang of Midgardian supervillanious tendencies. 

“Releasing the hostages,” Steve growled. “The five hundred-odd people he's frozen in there like ice sculptures.” 

Thor raised an eyebrow at Steve's choice of image but said nothing. 

“Do you know how to work one of these?” the megaphone man asked, proffering Thor the device. 

Thor glanced questioningly at Steve. 

“Thor, this is Agent Harris,” Steve said. “He's an FBI negotiator. This is what he's trained to do.” 

“And a rewarding job that must be, chatting with madmen,” Tony muttered. 

Thor took the megaphone. “I am aware it amplifies the voice,” he said. 

Harris stepped forward and took Thor by the arm, guiding him toward a strange metal contraption and showing him how to use the megaphone (you just pressed a button and spoke into the small end) and talking fast.

“This guy wants attention, that much is obvious,” Harris said in a Midgardian accent Thor couldn't identify. “So we give it to him. Listen to what he has to say, wait him out, be patient, just keep him talking. That's always number one, for me, first rule they teach you when you learn to talk to these guys, keep them talking if you can, and this is easy, no problem, we know exactly what he wants, he wants to be seen and heard.” 

Thor had to agree that sounded like one of the Lokis he knew. 

He nodded once. 

They reached the metal contraption, which had a long, ladder-like protrusion that ended in a basket large enough for two men, and Harris gestured to a woman in a yellow hat who seemed to be in control of it. The basket moved and settled near Thor. 

That's when Thor looked up. 

Behind Harris, in the square, mounted on the building above the body stage was a massive screen. It showed the face of the green-clad little figure as it stepped across limbs and on skulls, conducting the fireworks orchestra. 

And it was Loki. It … looked exactly like Loki. Older, perhaps, and thinner. But definitely Loki. Right down to the slightly manic grin that Thor could remember from Loki's last visit to this very city. 

The old impulse to seek guidance from Odin flickered across his mind, mocking him as he realized that this was neither possible nor, if it were possible, so good an idea as he had long believed it to be. 

The dissonance was back, anger and confusion and hope clashing, and Thor once again felt his energy draining rapidly. He was … not up to this. Would his past mock him and follow him no matter where he went upon the Nine Realms, never giving him peace to untangle his future? Where was he safe from these memories, if not on simple Midgard, with Jane? 

He put a hand over his eyes to block out the face that looked like Loki's, and the crazed green figure he could see moving atop the body stage. 

“Thor,” Steve's voice came again from nearby. “I know this is probably hard. But we need you to talk to him. We need to diffuse this situation. He's killed however many people he's standing on, though we don't know who they are or where they came form. And he keeps … teleporting people and … zoo animals into his magical pen, there. He's doing some strange things to them. All those lion cubs were adults this morning. The mammoth was an elephant.” 

Thor nodded, and lifted his head again. Harris explained the metal contraption to Thor—it would raise him up in the air to be on a level with Loki—and Thor stepped into the basket. A moment later, he was ascending. 

The green-clad figure took notice of this, the fireworks ceased, and the Loki facsimile’s eyes were on Thor. 

“Thor!” came a voice that boomed like a baseball announcer’s in a stadium. “You came!” 

Thor looked down at the megaphone in his hand and tried to remember how it worked. 

“... Yes,” he managed to say into it after a moment. His voice came out amplified, but nothing like as loud as Loki's; the gawkers at the end of the street could probably hear Loki. “I am here.” Thor swallowed, his mouth suddenly too dry. “What ... is this?” 

“This is my attempt to do right, Thor,” the Loki look-alike replied, face earnest. “I want to relinquish five weapons of extreme power to the Midgardian governments. I've been giving them a show of how powerful they are.” The look-alike grinned. “Do you like the show?” 

Thor tried not remember whether that manic gleam had been in Loki's eyes in the tavern on Vanaheim, or a thousand other times before and after that in their lives together, or if it were new. 

“... What weapons do you speak of?” Thor managed finally. 

The fascimile held out his arm to Thor, and Thor realized that he wore a golden vambrace. “This,” he said, his eyes widening. 

That's when Thor remembered what Steve had said on the phone-- “Infinity Gems.” 

On Loki's forearm was a piece of golden and leather armor that Thor recognized from his trips over the years to the weapons vault in Asgard. 

The Infinity Gauntlet. It had sat in the Weapons Vault for thousands of years, since Bor discovered it on a distant planet in a war that Thor could not remember much about. 

The six Infinity Gems each held power over some element of reality—but again, Thor couldn't quite remember exactly what they were supposed to be, or where they came from. 

And when they were combined in the Gauntlet, well ... They were supposed to bring the wearer omnipotence. Thor had always, in his youth, wondered why Odin never sought the Gems since he already had the Gauntlet, and he winced to remember those thoughts. 

In more recent years, Asgard had come to possess two of the Gems—the Tesseract, or Space Gem; and the Aether, or Reality Gem. They hadn't been exactly Gem-shaped, and Thor had asked Odin about that; apparently, they could take any form their user wanted them to. 

Loki's Gauntlet gleamed with five little points of multicolored light. When in their original forms, the Space Gem was meant to be … blue? Purple? The Reality gem … Yellow? Orange? 

All four of those colors were represented, though Thor couldn't remember exactly which gem was which. A red gem also gleamed from one knuckle. Only green was absent. Thor couldn't remember what that was, either. 

Thor felt himself suddenly to be massively out of his depth, and it was his own fault. Most days during his and Loki's private history lessons he had spent the time pretending to take notes but, in fact, sketching fantastical weaponry on the reverse side of his vellum. Once, when Loki informed Odin of this, the King had encouraged Thor with a chuckle. 

Thor wished, for the thousandth time, that he had spent certain parts of his youth differently. 

“You've … you've come to give Midgard the Infinity Gauntlet?” Thor replied at length. “That doesn't sound likely, no matter who you are.” 

The look-alike cocked his head. “You do not believe I am your brother, Thor?” it asked. 

“No,” Thor replied. “My brother died.” 

The look-alike grinned. “Oh, Thor,” it said. “You think there is no way that I, Loki, could seem to die one day and appear here another? Am I not called the God of Mischief? The silvertongue, the liesmith, the Trickster God?” 

Well, Thor though. When Loki put it that way. “I …” Thor realized he wasn't speaking into the megaphone, and put it to his lips again. “I knelt beside you,” he said. “As you died.” 

“And, if you recall, you'd done that twice before, during tricks we played in … I believe it was once in Nidavellir, and once in the Realm Below, when none of the Warriors were around.” 

A chill pricked at Thor's arms. “We … did play those tricks,” he said, feeling a bit like he was losing his grip on a raft in deep water. “But anyone could have gotten that information from Loki, while he lived.” 

Loki stood, expressionless, amidst the gleaming buildings and atop the pile of bloodied bodies. 

Then he grinned again, and raised one hand. “Here,” he said. “I'll prove it to you.” 

The air above Loki's frozen audience began to shimmer and shift with swirling, warm colors. After a moment, the colors resolved into an image. 

Frigga. Young, and smiling, a stargazer lily tucked behind one ear, seen as if from below. By children. 

“You must leave old Cavel alone,” she said in a low, amused voice that echoed through the Square but did not boom, was more delicate than that. “He … needs the extra money he makes that way. Your father cannot raise the kitchen's wages.” 

“But it isn't his!” came a young voice. The image shifted to show a small, blond boy. Thor. “He's stealing. And he smells.” 

“I can't imagine how it matters whether he smells,” Frigga said, and the image shifted to her again. She suppressed a smile, no longer looking down at the boys. Her head bobbed a bit, as if she were walking. “And you're right, of course, it isn't”--

Thor stopped listening. 

“Stop this, Loki,” Thor commanded into the megaphone. “Take Frigga down from there.” 

The image shimmered, and was gone. 

“Didn't want to hear yourself insult the old smuggler anymore, Thor?” Loki asked, eyes wide and innocent. “He's dead now, you know.” 

“Loki,” Thor said in greeting. Loki smiled, and his eyes narrowed. 

Thor felt much better, now. He wanted to pummel Loki. It was a much more familiar feeling. Much more comfortable and actionable. He no longer felt tired. 

Though he found the images in his head tended more toward thrashing Loki and then tying him to a chair so Thor could shout at him, than toward thrashing Loki and then throwing him in a cell so Thor could be done with him. 

“What are you doing?” Thor asked heavily. “Why are you standing on a pile of bodies?”

Loki looked down. “Oh, this?” he asked. He looked back up, still grinning. “This. This is … not real.” 

And with that, the image of the green-clad figure atop a pile of bloodied bodies glowed and resolved itself into only a green-clad figure, standing atop a small building in the center of the square. The screen with Loki's face also disappeared. 

Loki looked suddenly much smaller and more … vulnerable. He wasn't wearing his helmet. He was, in fact, dressed in much the same way he had been while imprisoned in Asgard. 

Thor had a sudden and intense memory of the warm, ticklish feeling of blood creeping to pool around his knees as he knelt beside Loki on Svartalfheim. 

“What are your demands, Loki?” he barked. “What do you want for the Infinity Gems? Dominion?” 

Loki shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. His voice still boomed, but he sounded somehow sincere. Which of course may or may not be real. “That would be a kind of blackmail, would you not agree? No. I want something much smaller.” Here, Loki paused, and looked almost nervous. The hand that did not bare the Gantlet went to the edge of his green tunic and gripped it tightly. 

Thor was at pains to remind himself that while Loki, all things considered, was almost certainly playing at something, he should not assume anything. He should remember to give Loki the benefit of the … doubt. 

With a twinge of regret, he recalled Loki's twisted, angry face as Thor shouted at him on that hilltop just after Thor came to Midgard to confront Loki about the Chitauri. How many times, over the last six months, had Thor wondered how he might have approached Loki differently that night? And yet here Thor was, doing the same thing again. 

“Pardon,” Loki went on finally, bringing Thor back to himself. “I wish to be cleared of all crimes against Midgard, and given the full freedom afforded to yourself to move about the various parts of this realm, should I chose to. I of course promise in advance not to commit any Midgardian crimes.” 

Certainly, there was more to it than that, Thor thought. Something in Loki's phrasing that would mean his wish, as granted, would give him much more than it seemed to. 

But Thor could not find the trick. 

And that was beside the fact that, obviously, Loki's word could not be trusted. 

Stop it, Thor, he admonished himself. He may well be telling the truth. Even if he only appeared to die for you, he truly did nearly die for Jane. Had you not saved him yourself from that gravity grenade … 

“And if we refuse?” Thor said. 

“Well then I'll have to go on 'demonstrating' the power of the Gems, here and at other Midgardian monuments, until someone accepts it.” 

“Have you hurt anyone with your demonstrations, Loki?” Thor growled. 

“Not yet,” Loki replied, grinning. “And I don't want to. But you can understand the position I'm in. You've got to take them. And that's my only leverage.” 

And that's when Thor realized he didn't understand nearly anything about this situation. 

“Loki, where did you get five Infinity Gems?” he asked suddenly, as the sheer amount of power in front of him—if Loki was telling the truth—began to register. 

“I collected them from various sources,” Loki said lightly. “I would not expect you to understand the power of research. Myself and another dark sorcerer discovered their locations, and sought them out. The other dark sorcerer I have now killed, after realizing that our intention to take over the Nine Realms was misguided. I now want only for the Gems to be safe from those would use them to do evil.” 

Thor almost laughed, surveying the tableau around them. “This was perhaps not the way to convey such a message,” he said. 

“It got me the meetings I wanted,” Loki said coolly. “Now will you kindly ask the international organization which is present here today—the cleverly named 'Shield'--whether they would like to take possession of the Gems? It's hot out and I'd like to take this Gauntlet off.” 

“Loki, the Gems will not be safe on Midgard,” Thor said. “You must know that. This realm is not equipped”--

“Nor is it on the map,” Loki cut in. “No one thinks of Midgard, who is not on Midgard, save your esteemed self. No threat keeps up with news of the planet of mortals. Since the Aether came to Asgard, there have been no fewer than three attempts by unsavory forces to break into the weapon's vault. All eyes are on Asgard. None on Midgard.” 

The argument made a kind of sense, though it ignored a slew of other potentialities. But perhaps “a kind of sense” was the most that Loki was capable of making. He still did not seem sane. He had not, for a long time. 

Thor felt a pang as all the romanticized trust he had began to put in the memory of his dead brother over the last six months was assaulted by a wave of vivid memories: That bilgesnipe; the time he turned Sif's hair black; Loki showing off flame magic in the streets of a village made mostly of wood; then … Jotenheim. The Chitauri. 

He felt suddenly as if he'd misplaced something important, despite the fact that Loki was apparently alive after all. 

All at once, as if Thor's lingering hope to trust Loki had kept the question at bay, Thor found himself asking the only thing that, in Thor's heart of hearts, he was really wondering about. 

“Does Odin believe the Gems should be removed from Asgard?” Thor asked. Though he was certain he already knew the answer. 

Loki's smile faltered, but Thor could only imagine that was by design. “No,” Loki said. “But if you'll recall, the last time you and I did something that went against the wishes of the Allfather, it was your idea. And it resulted in your saving the universe.” 

The impulse to automatically tell Loki off for defying father broke against Thor, and he weathered it. It passed. 

Thor tried to think through the fog of fear that permeated his mind at the notion of defying his father. Knowing father would not agree with Loki, could Thor agree to Loki's terms? What would father do, if he knew Loki and Thor had worked together to keep Infinity Gems from Asgard, based upon reasons of their own? 

Thor did not know. After he kidnapped Jane from Asgard, and defeated Malekith, father had been surprisingly lenient. Shockingly lenient, if Thor was honest with himself. Thor was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the punishment to come. Could he add to his list of crimes against Odin? How long before father realized Thor was no longer interested in unquestioning obedience, and sent someone to Midgard to put him in a cell, too? 

But no. No. Thor was not a pawn, not a child. He could stand up to father. He had been telling himself as much for six months. 

Perhaps Loki was right, and Thor merely could not see it because he knew it defied Odin's wishes. 

Then again, perhaps Loki really was scheming something. 

Thor fingered the handle of Mjolnir, wishing there was something he could do with it. This was exactly the kind of decision he had hoped to avoid making, until he was a far wiser man, by abdicating the throne. Perhaps some day he would be up to such complex calculations. That day was not today. 

But as Thor stood there considering, Loki twitched his wrist, and Thor was hit with a wave of realization. 

Suddenly he knew that Loki was probably telling the truth. About the sorcerer. About the Gems being safer here. About having good intentions. 

The sense of loss began to fade as it dawned on Thor: Loki was here, alive, and he wasn't necessarily up to no good. 

The realization was rather abrupt. Like magic. 

But it was nice. 

“I will take your demand to Shield, brother,” he said, fighting the wave of emotion to keep his voice steady. “It is not unreasonable. You will not cause any further trouble while we consult?” 

“Of course not,” Loki replied. He flicked his wrist, and the animals all disappeared. “I have even restored the zoo's population, as a show of good faith.” 

“Thank you, brother,” Thor said. 

Loki smiled wanly and Thor felt himself return the expression. 

Thor glanced down. Harris made a hand signal to the woman who stood at the controls for the metal contraption, and Thor began to descend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor attempts to convince the Avengers, the United States Federal Government, and Shield to cooperate with Loki. 
> 
> So, this chapter sets up some themes, and moves the plot along. It's a bit of a connective chapter, with some Avengers bickering, but few Loki or Thor feels. There will be Loki and Thor feels next chapter. That's a thing that's true.
> 
> Warnings: None, really. 
> 
> Song: You're Gonna Go Far, Kid, by the Offspring; a common Loki-related favorite. The content of the song is relevant to what's ... going on in this chapter.

It was not, of course, easy to convince all necessary parties to accept Loki's proposal.

Director Fury, Tony, and Natasha were fairly sure the best plan was to _tell_ Loki they accepted the deal, take the Gauntlet, and then imprison the rogue Asgardian.

Steve thought that was dishonorable, if anything at all could be identified as an alternative. Thor professed agreement with Steve, but really just didn't want Loki captured.

Bruce figured Fury’s plan was probably what Loki expected and wanted, and that really there was no good decision they could possibly make, and that the Earth might be a little bit doomed.

Clint, who looked like a volcano straining not to erupt, was of the firm belief that Shield and the U.S. Military had not tried hard enough yet to _take_ the Gauntlet by _force_.

“Four M1A2 Abrams main battle tanks weren't enough force for you?” Tony asked.

“First of all it's scary you can just name the make and model of tanks like that. Second, I still say we could try a missile strike--”

“ _Not_ while there are hostages,” Steve cut in.

“More people will _die_ , long-term, if we let Penn and Teller there out into the world,” Clint replied. “Five hundred casualties, compared to what he did last time, when he had free reign--”

“This is non-negotiable, from my point of view,” Harris interjected swiftly, glancing at the other suited human, who nodded belatedly. “We're not using any force that could harm the hostages.”

“Well, what about you, Thor?” Clint turned those penetrating eyes on him. “You're from the same god damned planet as your prissy fucking brother. How do we get through that sci-fi field?”

One strike from Mjolnir, Thor thought. Done it a thousand times.

“Such fields are nearly impenetrable, unless assaulted by overwhelming force on the scale Steve and Mr. Harris have rejected,” Thor said aloud.

“There ya' go,” Steve said as Clint balled his hands into fists and glared at Thor like it was his fault—which, strictly speaking, it was. “We can't get in. And we've been here all day with the best people negotiating with him and ended up exactly nowhere. I think the best option we’ve got is to take this deal.”

“Whoa, there, Cap,” Tony said, raising his metal hands in surprise. “That's a bit of a leap of logic, don't you think? We can't bomb the terrorist, so, oh, I know, we'll cooperate with him?”

“He is not a terrorist,” Thor said, gritting his teeth. “He is my brother, and he was doing … much better, before we lost contact again.”

“You mean before he pretended to die?” Clint asked dryly.

Thor stepped toward him, feeling the weight of Mjolnir in his hand, but Steve's arm appeared between them, and Thor backed up.

“No need for that,” Steve said. “Thor, I'm on your side. I think we should do what he asks. And”--he looked at Tony--“I don't make this decision lightly. But think about it. He's offering us something pretty amazing. And he did good things with it. He didn't kill anyone, apparently. He _helped_ people. It looks to me like he's asking for a second chance, in a particular way."

Thor blinked at Steve. “Thank you, my friend,” he said.

“No problem.”

"Do we need to get out the New York Times 'Tribute to those who fell in New York' issue for you to remember what he did, Cap?" Tony asked. "Because I can call it up on my mobile, here. The photos of the standing memorial haven’t come out yet, but the paper—"

"And what about all the people your weapons killed?" Steve asked. "Will you show me a retrospective on them?"  


Thor didn't know much about this particular part of Tony's history—something having to do with Midgardian wartime economics, and the morality thereof—but he did know that the issue was something of a sore one for the Man of Iron.

  
Tony's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "Look, Steve, I know I—Christ," he said, enlighteningly. "But how is that comparable?"  
  
"What kinds of atrocities we're complicit with and how we're complicit with them is cultural, and personal," Steve answered. "It would be hypocritical of this team to refuse Loki a second chance. We could probably change our name to Team Second Chance. Every single one of us has gotten a second chance to be better than we thought we could ever be, in one way or another. If we can apply to ourselves and each other such a flexible version of justice, why not someone else? Thor vouches for Loki. I trust Thor. And I believe in second chances."  
  
"Why don't we just give every murderer who looks remorseful at his trial a second chance, then?" Tony asked. "One of them could be the next Mother Theresa, or the next Bill Gates. We can't possibly just put them in prison because they killed somebody. They _feel bad_."  
  
Steve's lips pressed together, and he looked at Tony in a way he hadn't looked at him in months, the same way he'd looked at him on the helicarrier before the invasion, when Tony hadn't seemed to be able to do anything but insult people and make light of the situation. "Do _not_ take the moral high ground just because the bad things you've done are sanctioned by a system," Steve said. "You're better than that. Or at least, sometimes you are."  
  
Tony shut his mouth, stared for a second, and then opened it again. "Okay, you're making me feel like I'm wrong, but I'm still pretty sure I'm right," Tony said. He pushed something on the screen of his handheld device and held it up. The "New York Times" victim retrospective displayed above it, floating there in the air between the two men.  
  
"All I'm saying," Steve said, taking a step forward and not taking his eyes off Tony's, "is if the rules don't apply to us, why do they apply to him? If he belongs in jail--and maybe he does--then so do you, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce."  
  
"Possibly also me," Thor put in. Steve glanced at him sidelong, and nodded in thanks. Thor nodded back.  
  
"I think Director Fury would agree with me, if his mind wasn't, uh, clouded by his lust after those baubles," Tony said evenly, glancing at the silent, one-eyed man. Fury rolled his eyes in a put-upon manner. "This isn't abstract. This is--"  
  
"Threat mitigation?" Steve asked. "Like a nuclear deterrent? Or like stock piling Stark weapons tech?"  
  
"No, threat mitigation like making sure there's enough coolant in your nuclear reactor."  
  
"He's a sentient being, not a nuclear reactor," Steve said.  
  
"Hitler, was a sentient being," Tony returned.  
  
Steve continued to look at Tony appraisingly. "Okay, tell me this," he said. "In your analogy, what's the coolant?"  
  
"What's the--oh. Containment. Of Loki. Putting him back in a cell, somewhere he can't hurt anyone. That's the coolant."  
  
"That seems to have gone great the first time," Steve replied. "Try this on for size, huh? What if the coolant is a second chance? How do you know it's not?"  
  
Tony snorted. "You've got a lot of faith in decency, Cap," he said. "You'll excuse me if I don't share it."  
  
"And you've got a lot of faith in violence," Steve returned. "You'll excuse _me_ , if I don't share _that_."  
  
Tony shook his head. "Maybe you're right, up to a point," he said. "But somewhere, there's gotta be a line. I think twelve thousand people is over any reasonable idea about where the line should be."

"So what do you want to do?" Steve asked. "Fight him here in the streets? See how many civilian casualties we can rack up before he beats us because he's got super-gems or whatever those are? He made a car disappear. I get the distinct impression we're still standing here because he's allowing it."  


Most of the Avengers nodded grudgingly, save for Clint, who shook his head but said nothing. Tony looked around at them like a man who knew he was beaten.

“Fine,” he said. “Clearly, I have no control over this situation. But I'm big enough to say, hey, I'll be there when we've got to fight him again. No sweat.”

Steve's features remained carefully neutral.

Fury was rather easier to persuade, probably—Thor thought—because he was ready to agree to anything that ended with the Gauntlet in a Shield facility.

The rumpled man who had been consulting with Steve and Fury when Thor arrived turned out to be a figure Thor had seen on television before, now that he thought about it: The American “Secretary of Homeland Security.” He seemed mostly to be out of his depth and terrified, and said little, though he did seem displeased by the idea of letting Shield take possession of the Gauntlet. He feared that this would make “the administration look weak,” which admittedly should always be a concern for a nation but should not be quite so primary among the man's considerations, in Thor's opinion.

  
Eventually the Secretary placed a call to the “President,” and returned with instructions to let Shield have the Gauntlet, after all, if the Avengers, the Department, and Shield did in fact agree to accept Loki's bargain.

The “President” also strongly recommended that the Secretary listen very carefully to whatever Captain America had to say.

After that the Secretary pulled Harris and Director Fury to the side to have a humans-only chat, and the American government capitulated to Steve's—Thor's—plan.

Which left Tony Stark as the only remaining vocal objector to the plan as it now stood, and Thor found it none too difficult to ignore him. Everyone else was doing just that.

Which is how it came to pass that, as the sun began to set, Thor was once again raised aloft in the metal contraption.

“This is insane,” came Tony's voice from below him. “Thor, this is an agency that intends to develop weapons of mass destruction, being benefited by the guy who suggested all of humanity kneel. The guy who allowed himself to be _captured and imprisoned_ just to play with our heads.” Tony glanced around. “Natasha, tell him, last chance.”

The Black Widow shook her head. “Not my area,” she said. “Magic 'n shit.”

“Clint?” Tony tried.

“I'm buying a bunker in China,” Hawkeye replied, arms crossed. “Or South Africa.”

“That's … not a bad idea,” Tony replied. “But not all that helpful. I _am not_ supposed to be the sanest man in the room, at literally _any_ given moment.”

Thor smiled down at the Iron Man. “I appreciate your input,” he said jovially.

Tony quirked an eyebrow as Thor rose further into the air, and Thor turned away from him.

Loki was lounging now, having at some point conjured a brief-case sized tome he was now reading atop the small building. “Loki,” Thor called through the megaphone. “We've accepted your offer.”

Loki's head snapped up and, for a moment, he looked immensely relieved, lips parted and brow smooth.

Then he smiled a chilly smile, and nodded.

All at once, the energy shield dissolved, and the people frozen in the streets of Times Square began to let out little cries of surprise and to clutch at themselves in confusion. Police officers and EMS people streamed forward to apprise them of what they'd just gone through.

Loki stood, the divan and tome disappearing, took one step forward, and--

Then he was at the base of the metal contraption, a few feet from Director Fury, the smile still fixed on his face. Clint, Bruce, and the Secretary of The Department of Homeland Security all jumped and backed slightly away.

“Hello, Thor,” Loki said, glancing up. Then he turned back to Director Fury. “This is for you.”

And, with no fuss at all, he unlaced the Infinity Gauntlet and handed it to the eye-patched man.

“Well, thanks, Reindeer Games,” Tony said. “I sure hope a bunch of Mediterranean soldiers don't jump out of there tomorrow.”

“Ah yes, I have heard that tale,” Loki answered inscrutably. “Clever, Iron Man.”

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Tony replied.

But he was walking away now, going after Director Fury, who had shot away from Loki the moment the Gauntlet was in his hands.

Both men made it to the middle of Times Square and Thor became aware of a low hum that was getting louder by the second.

A moment later a helicopter swooped to hover above Tony and the Director, and a ladder dropped to the ground.

From his vantage point, Thor watched Tony and Furry have a brief shouting argument which ended in Tony poising to blast the Director and, at the last moment, shutting down his blaster and stalking back toward the other Avengers.

Fury climbed the ladder, and the helicopter was soon gone.

“Well that was … expedient,” Loki said as the drone of the helicopter faded.

“Made his escape like a god damned fugitive,” Tony muttered as he drew back up to the group and extracted what looked like a cellular telephonic device from inside a compartment of his suit.

“An apt simile,” Loki agreed wryly.

Just then, Steve finally realized he ought to gesture for the woman in the yellow hat to lower Thor.

When he reached the ground, there were no actual thoughts inside his head. He launched himself at Loki. His skinny brother's spine stiffened as Thor embraced him, and he did not relax even as Thor held on.

But it didn't matter.

“You're alive,” Thor said to Loki's shoulder. He pulled away, and peered into Loki's face. “Norns, Loki, what happened to you? How do you live?”

Thor was distantly aware that the other beings present were staring at the two Asgardians, but that didn't matter either.

“Um,” Loki said. He turned his head a bit to regard Thor penetratingly. “Are you quite alright, Thor?” he asked. “You're acting rather … affectionately.” Loki glanced down at where Thor was still gripping Loki's upper arms.

Thor released him and took a step back. “You are of course coming home with me,” Thor said. “To New Mexico. That is where I live with Jane.” Thor recognized that he was beaming like a fool, but did nothing to check it.

The expression of surprise that appeared on Loki's face was out of place; Loki was difficult to catch off guard.

“I—what?” Loki said.

Thor’s smile flickered as he realized that his sudden renewed affection for his brother probably did seem bizarre to Loki: After the contract on Nidavellir, the messenger to Bredtre, the Tasks, and then everything Loki did … things between them had been as cold and hopeless as a Svartalfheim sunset for over a century.

Their best moment together since coming of age had been when Loki was _dying_.

“I bare you only good will, Loki,” Thor said more quietly. “I have endeavored to put the past behind me.”

Loki’s face went perfectly still. Something flickered there—and then was gone.

“Alright, Thor,” Loki said finally, his voice very steady. “If you would like it.”

 

Thor had expected much more of an argument. But he was not going to ask a dragon for its fire.

 

Besides! Thor felt as if he had climbed the highest mountain in the Nine Realms. That he should have thought his brother both dead and possibly evil—and now to be here! With his brother alive, doing the right thing, and coming home with him. What would Odin say _now_?

 

“Like it?!” Thor roared, hefting his arm to slap Loki on the back before remembering that—this was among the things he had realized or learned about Loki, while Loki was dead—Loki tended to wince when he did that. He sat it gently around Loki's shoulders, instead. “I would be delighted!”

 

“Thor, are you sure about that?” Clint spoke up. “I didn't think you two were close.”

 

“We were,” Thor said, turning to Clint and feeling the smile drop. “But then we were torn apart by circumstance, and poor choices all around. Now I have a second chance. I apologize if my exuberance seems strange. The brotherly bond is very important to the Asgardian Old Ways.”

 

Loki's expression of surprise seemed to have progressed, at this point, to bafflement, though he also looked vaguely pained. Thor removed his arms from Loki's shoulders, fearing that he had hurt him after all.

 

Loki did not look at Thor and, after a moment, the expression disappeared and was replaced by the blank calm he had projected for most of his life. He stood up a little straighter, seeming to recover from Thor's assault of affection.

 

“I haven't mind controlled him, if that's what you mean, Agent Barton,” he said quietly. He joined his hands behind his back and it made him look quite sober and trustworthy, if you didn't know him.

 

Clint stared at him, his mouth twisted as if he smelled something rotten. “It is not one of my powers, without the scepter,” Loki went on. “Thor will tell you that.”

 

“It is not,” Thor confirmed.

 

Clint did not state what Thor imagined to be the obvious retort—that if Thor _were_ mind controlled, he would say whatever Loki told him to—but instead threw up his hands and stormed away from the situation.

 

“This is going to be a disaster,” he called over his shoulder. Loki smiled politely at him. “This whole thing. Some unique, spectacular, never-before-seen kind of disaster.” He turned around but continued to move away, walking backwards and waving his arms. “People will die, and that won't even be the worst part.”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes at him.

 

When the humans were gone, Loki took a breath as if to speak further.

 

Instead, Steve stepped forward to station himself inches away from Loki, and Thor's brother shut his mouth quickly. Thor would have been lying if he had denied that Loki looked a bit intimidated as the more muscular man regarded him.

 

“Loki,” Steve said evenly. A worry line appeared between Loki's eyes, but he said nothing. “You keep up your end of the deal, and we keep up ours. Do you understand? You break any Midgardian laws, and the deals off. _Any_ Midgardian laws.”

 

“Any?” Loki said, raising his hands to put them protectively between himself and the Avenger. “Could we not employ a 'three strikes, you're out' system, or something similar? I can't see how maybe just one murder would be so--”

 

“No,” Steve barked just as Thor frowned and heard himself say,

 

“Loki.”

 

Thor was not entirely sure whether Loki was joking. He rather hoped he was.

 

Loki shut his mouth. Steve went on. “Any laws,” he said. “I mean don't jay walk. Don’t speed, even if you’re late to theater practice. Do you understand?”

Loki seemed about to argue again, but then nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I understand the spirit of what you say, though I can't profess that I know how to ‘jay walk.’ I suppose I must brush up.”

 

“I suppose you must,” Tony said from behind Steve without looking up from his telephonic device. “I think you'll find a few surprises. For example, did you know it's illegal to invade a city with an alien army? It's an international war crime, actually, which are, like, the black belts of crime.”

 

“That was all just one crime?” Loki asked, cocking his head slightly at Tony. “That is underwhelming.”

 

“Let's all try not to be glib about thousands of lives, how 'bout that,” Steve said evenly.

 

“Yes, sensibilities, very sorry,” Loki said recklessly. Steve stared at him with what Thor could only call disappointment.

 

Loki turned away from Steve. “Anyway, shall we get on with this, then?” he said, searching the faces of the group. “Is there any … What is it? Paperwork? Shall we put it into writing and seal with blood?”

 

That seemed to close the obligatory period of warning Loki against misbehavior.

 

There followed a period of T-crossing, with the group repairing to an office building down the street which had apparently been commandeered by Maria Hill and other high-ranking members of Shield. Document were produced, read by all parties, and then signed by Loki, Hill, and the Secretary. Loki swore not to break any Midgardian laws, and not to use magic with malicious or antisocial intent. Natasha also had a specific provision against mind control placed into the contract.

 

Loki was, further, to report to any Shield facility on the first of every month “just to check in,” as Hill put it; to Thor, it sounded like the Midgardian practice of “parole.” He also was not to leave the country without alerting both Shield and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and while the United States was willing to grant Loki a permanent visitor's visa—which sounded like a contradiction—the Secretary informed Loki that he did not think there was any protocol by which he could become a citizen. That Thor had already been granted honorary citizenship no one chose to mention.

 

And then, after what felt like most of a day but was in fact perhaps four hours, Loki was, as Tony put it, “now clear to move about the Midgard,” which was an odd sentence construction but was otherwise true. Tony and the Secretary went off to do media appearances for the tenacious reporters who remained at the other end of the police blockade, their crisp button-downs and colorful blazers by now looking rather wrinkled.

 

Unfortunately, when Thor and Loki were escorted to the roof of the office building to call for Heimdall, the Guardian for the second time that day did not respond.

 

A light breeze blew across the building's flat top and the lights of New York City winked in the evening around them, but the sky remained empty and clear of all energy pulses.

 

“Must be down for maintenance,” Thor suggested uncertainly, and Loki nodded. This had not happened in centuries, but perhaps the new Bifrost wasn't fully debugged, yet.

 

Fortunately, Tony was oddly amenable to lending the brothers use of a fully-staffed Stark Industries jet.


End file.
